Shining Knight
by Madame Rose
Summary: Blood, like streaks of crimson ribbon, threaded through the light green grass, and though the wind blew gently, she could still smell the stench of war. DH Spoilers Oneshot


**Author's Note**: I've had lots of ideas for Ron and Hermione lately, and just Harry Potter in general, so here's a nice little oneshot for you all to munch on. I think it's cute. :D _Wish to Remember _is a bit of a companion to this, so you should read it.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Harry Potter, Fred would NOT be dead, and Albus Severus would have a much better name than he does. Poor, traumitized little boy.

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_Shining Knight  
_A Ron and Hermione Fanfiction  
January 24, 2008

It was all too beautiful for a world that was destroyed.

Hermione Granger stared vacantly across the destroyed landscape of Hogwarts, goose bumps rising on her flesh as she realized what happened here only three hours previous. Blood, like streaks of crimson ribbon, threaded through the light green grass, and though the wind blew gently, she could still smell the horrid stench of war.

It was all too much for her, and she could feel tears springing to her eyes as she continued to gaze at the ruined scenery. The grounds, of course, were still beautiful in their own terrible way: flowers, once an innocent shade of white, were stained red, and even the dirt itself had taken on a bloodlike quality. Hermione, who would never admit to being terrified of anything, was terrified of this place that she had called her home for more than seven years, and as tears began to wind in grimy tracks down her cheeks, she knew that she would never be able to return to Hogwarts again.

"It's all so surreal, isn't it?" Hermione jumped at the sound of a voice: she had not heard anyone approaching. But the low baritone that greeted her was anything but unfamiliar, and her lips twitched in an instinctive smile as the familiar aroma of Ron's hair floated towards her in the deceptively calm breeze. The lanky redhead looked like he had been sobbing for hours, and, indeed, he probably had. Fred's death still stabbed at her like a knife, and a fresh wave of tears threatened to overcome her as she remembered the laugh that would never be finished.

"I know," she whispered, leaning into Ron as he drew closer to her, snaking his arms around her waist. "I keep hoping that I'll shut my eyes and this will all just be a terrible, terrible dream."

Ron barked a hoarse laugh, a bitter smile twisting across his face. "I do too, 'Mione," he whispered. "God, I just…I can't believe it's actually _over_. And I know I should be happy about it, but how can I? Fred's gone and George looks like he'll never smile again…"

His words broke off, and Hermione placed a comforting hand on his face. Ron looked like he had finally been defeated – the mischievous and childlike air (though not as potent as the one surrounding Fred and George had been) that trailed behind him was gone, replaced with an unfamiliar one, and she drew away hesitantly. Was this the boy whom she'd kissed in the Room of Requirement hours earlier? Was this the boy who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with?

"I wish I could do something for him," Ron eventually murmured. "I wish I could do something that would make him laugh, even if it was just for a minute. Then I would know he would be okay."

"But he won't be okay, Ronald," Hermione sighed, locking her chocolate eyes with his blue ones. "He's lost his twin brother. He'll never be the same again. Just like…Just like Hogwarts will never be the same again."

Ron's face was contorted with anguish at Hermione's blunt words, and he took a step away from her. Realizing what she'd said, the eighteen iyear old moved closer to him, placing her dirt-and-blood stained hand in his own grubby paw. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have said that, that was wrong, that was harsh, that was–"

"No, you were right," Ron interrupted. "George won't be the same. But that's not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk to you about something else. Something, um, something that's a bit more cheerful." And his lips twisted into a hint of a smile, eyes showing a bit of the twinkle that had still been in them when the fighting began.

"I, um, I wanted to talk to you about what happened in the Room of Requirement earlier tonight."

"_Oh, shit,"_ Hermione thought, mind flying with all the possibilities. _"He made a mistake. He was nervous. He doesn't love me. He's leaving. He's not ready for a relationship right now. He doesn't want me. He wants someone like Lavender – even though she's clinging to life by a thread after falling from that balcony. He doesn't want to be with me for the rest of my life. He –"_

"I wanted to tell you that was the best thing I ever did in my life. And that I could never, ever wish for someone more than you. You're my world, and that I'm so glad that we survived this thing because I was _so scared _that we wouldn't make it out. I couldn't picture life without you, Hermione. I don't know what I'd do without you. I love you."

"_Oh." _A more relaxed expression came across Hermione's face as she peered up into Ron's face, somewhat amused by the awkward way he'd just professed himself. She'd memorized that face like one would memorize a map: every freckle, every scar, every blemish, she knew. She knew that the small scar right above his left eyebrow came from when he ran into Arthur's desk when he was six years old. She knew that the small, dark freckle on the right side of his lower lip made him self conscious, and he hated when people told him that he had a bit of chocolate on his lip. Hermione, though, had always found it somewhat endearing…

"Say something, Hermione," Ron said anxiously, jerking her out of the stupor that she'd just sent herself into. His voice was coated with worry and fear, and Hermione shook her head, a little half smile on her lips. Clasping his hand in hers – for she had dropped it, who knows when – Hermione tilted her head up to look at Ron more clearly. He really was quite handsome, despite all the agony of the evening. His hair waved slightly in the wind, and though he was in desperate need of a haircut, it looked fine at this particular moment. Through the filth that stained his cheeks was a lovely red blush that was growing on his face, and Hermione couldn't remember him ever looking so vulnerable. It pained her heart, but at the same time, she was more attracted to him than she'd ever been in the past.

"Ronald, you can be such a fool sometimes," she began quietly. "When we were in our first year, and I saw you on the train for the first time, I remember how cute I thought you were. But then I got to know you, and I thought you were an obnoxious, self centered little prick – though I certainly didn't use that word at the time." Ron chuckled slightly, though it had a sour tone to it. Perhaps he didn't understand where she was going with this little speech.

"When I was in the bathroom with the troll, I remember being terrified, and I remember thinking how nice it would be if my knight in shining armor would come to save me. I've never been much of a romantic, obviously, but when you came into the loo, I can honestly say that I knew from that moment on that you would, in the end, be the one to save me when I couldn't save myself. I don't know why I never counted Harry…" she chortled to herself. "I guess I always knew he would be more of a brother to me than anything else."

"And so over the years, you have been the one to save me when I couldn't save myself. Through all of our bickering and our fighting and our long gaps of time where we refused to speak to each other, I knew, in the back of my mind, that you would be the one to keep me from plunging into the abyss of insanity. They say that geniuses are apt to insanity, you know," Hermione said with a small smile.

Ron looked utterly confounded at her speech, his wide blue eyes still processing it all. Sighing impatiently (he could be so _thick _sometimes!), Hermione lifted herself up on her toes and locked her mouth with his. It was a small kiss, only a peck really, but the brainy bookworm attempted to throw all of her tumultuous emotions towards the youngest Weasley brother into that kiss. The kiss was like stars and sunshine and moonshine and butterbeer all rolled into one, and a smile tugged at both Ron and Hermione's lips.

"I love you, Ronald Weasley," Hermione whispered as she pulled away from him, her breath still fluttering like a butterfly on his lips. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she buried her face in his chest, his familiar scent rising up to meet her. Hermione's grin broadened as she inhaled deeply, astonished and amused that he could still smell so _good_ through all the grime that stained his clothes.

Rain began to pour on the grounds of Hogwarts several minutes later. Little rivers of scarlet blood wound through the grass and towards the Lake, carrying with it the debris from the battle. In a few minutes, the countryside around the ruined castle would not look as terrible, but the scars that were etched into the trees and into the memories of the people who were there would never fade. As Hermione twisted back and gazed at the torrents of rain that tumbled from the sky, a small, bitter smile tugged at her lips. It was like scratching out a mistake on an essay, she mused. There may be ink over it, but it would never be truly gone, but simply hidden beneath a layer of ink that could easily be siphoned away.

But, then again, scratching something out on an essay could lead to better things. And as she began walking once more, fingers still entwined with Ron's, Hermione knew that she was approaching a new and brighter dawn with her love at her side.

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I really, really like this one. Please R&R.


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